Freeze Frame
by Project K-0S
Summary: Deals were made, interferences happened, things blew up. Nora Fries just happened to be a less-than-unfortunate victim of circumstance, brought out of her limbo, hidden away in a lab for years on end. Now? She's not so sure that she agrees with the things Mr. Freeze has done in her name... T for violence, language.


**Hello, I'm back again. Just wanted to quickly add an author's note to this, though I have no clue whether anyone actually reads these things :P I've been meaning to write this for a long time now, and above everything want to enjoy what I write, SO that means that updates on anything else… Ehh, they're up in the air. I don't have any set schedule planned for this one, school's been chaotic. Enough of me rambling, I hope you enjoy!**

An icy wind swept through Gotham City, chilling its inhabitants to the bone. Somewhere off in the distance, you could hear an infant wailing, the cold becoming too much for him. This infant would die tonight, his body to be found days later in a grungy alleyway, lying by a dumpster. But this story isn't about him, nor is he essential to it in any which way. He was merely another soul to be forgotten, taken by the frozen grip of death that was terrorizing the city. Elsewhere, there was a building. Approximately two stories high with eight rooms in total, the walls made out of crumbling red bricks. If you dared come close enough, you would be able to make out two voices, their owners obscured by a wall.

One of the voiced was higher pitched with a wide range of vocal inflections and sudden laughter; you could almost hear the smile on his face. The smile of a lunatic, surely, but it wouldn't be wise to say that to his face. The mad smile was only emphasized by blood red make-up, the skin underneath bleached to an unnatural white. Black greasepaint surrounded his eyes; similar to the way a puppy might have a patch around his eye. But this man was anything but a puppy; he was dangerous. Cunning. Insane.

The other voice might make you blink and wonder for a few seconds as it was almost like the owner was speaking from inside a fishbowl, the way the sounds bounced off and echoed just enough to be noticeable. Some children might mistake him for a space man; someone dressed up in a Halloween costume with the red bug-eyed goggles and the armoured suit. But not the children of Gotham. By now they knew that you would be suicidal to approach this man, as he wasn't a costumed person but a villain. No, the first thing they were supposed to do was run and cry for help, that was what they had been taught in school.

Inside, the two sat at an old wooden table, cracks running up the sides; giving away it's age. A flickering yellow lamp hung above them, swinging back and forth ever so slightly due to the wind getting in through the gaps in the walls and doors. Upon the table were the makings of a card game; quite the elaborate setup on the left side though a poorer performance on the right. A gloved hand laid down three cards, all of the same kind and then retreating closer to the edge of the table, drumming a random staccato on the wood absentmindedly.

"I came here to make a deal, not to _play cards_." The voice belonged to Victor Fries, otherwise and better known as Mr. Freeze. To be honest he had never liked card games, having never been all that good at them, even as a child. You wouldn't want to let him near poker chips, or trust him with winning a match. The person opposite frowned, a strange look for one with a smile painted on their face.

"I'm being _hospitable_ mind you. This whole thing was my idea, it goes by _my rules_," he retorted, holding the expression for a moment longer before it fell back into it's natural grin. "But if you're gonna be a party pooper like that… I suppose we could get down to business. I want diamonds. A whole shipment of 'em. You have guys, and you're currently controlling the docks. _So_, you're going to get them for me."

Mr. Freeze scoffed, lightly throwing the cards onto the table as he gave up on ever winning against the madman. He couldn't… Was he actually _serious_ in his demands?

"What motive would I have to help _you_ of all people for nothing in exchange?" The Joker leaned over the table, holding the cards like weapons in his hand. They may very well be, there had been rumours of the man slitting people's throats with nothing but a playing card, but no one had lived to verify the tale.

"Listen here, Freeze. I want those diamonds. And when I want something I get it. I thought that you might need a little… persuasion," he said, making vague hand gestures as he went along. "You know that 'secret lab' you have all nice and set up for your girl? Turns out it's not much of a secret after all. Now, I thought that she looked lonely, floating there in the tank. She's a real quiet fellow, you know that? Anyways, so I left some dynamite to keep her company. Also quite the introvert, so this could go either way. So at this point, you can either get me the diamonds for twelve o'clock tomorrow night, or Nora and her little lab goes boom." Sound effects and an explosive hand gesture accompanied the word along with a wide smile. Mr. Freeze was frozen, pun not intended thank you very much, in his seat, trying to figure out what he was supposed to do.

Standing up seemed to be first on his list, then pushing in the chair, his hand gripping the back tightly, muttering curses at the clown who was now shuffling the cards, grinning at him eerily. Striding through the door, he slammed it shut, not turning around to watch it fall off its hinges.

"So we're on for twelve? It's a date! I just can't wait…"

"Oracle to Batman, I've got a solid location for the Joker. Sending you the coordinates now."

The night was his favourite time of day, unsurprisingly; as it was when he could do his job, protect his city. The night was his ally, his friend, just as much as Robin or Nightwing. It allowed him to blend in, to hide, and to attack. To deliver justice. He had given up so much, sacrificed any sense of normality, all for the mission.

Many would argue that, even though _he_ might want to throw away his life gallivanting through the most dangerous parts of Gotham, he should have never brought children into it like he did. It was in these cases that he put his well-trained skills into use, having had much experience with nodding and smiling, in reality completely ignoring the criticisms received. Turn a blind eye to the papers, suddenly come down with some selective deafness when he happened to turn to a channel debating his morals.

But did anyone ever ask the supposed 'victims'? Dick Grayson, first known as Robin, then to Nightwing. Hell, he had even been known as the Batman for a short while, but that was too much. It wasn't something that he had even wanted, but once again, the mission came first over his own emotions. But now, he was all grown up, one of the highest-ranking officers in the Bludhaven Police Department. With that said, he constantly had to make up excuses for various injuries that would just happen to show up overnight, he had to all through his life. The things that he had seen, that he had gone through… Even as an adult, they were things that he would never wish upon his greatest enemy.

And then there was Jason Todd, perhaps the most affected by Batman's crusade. Already his life had been rough, but he was _managing_. Well. He was trying to manage; the results were less than desirable. He was a violent one, though not to be taken for an idiot. Died at the hands of the Joker, revived in Ra's Al Ghul's Lazarus Pit. The waters of the pit, sickly green and swirling with bad omens and memories, it had twisted him. His mind, his body, and his soul. He came back changed, violent, moving on the take matters into his own hands, starting his own revolt against criminal activity. It's questionable whether he has become slowly too sucked into it, turning into just what he fights off nightly.

Third there is Timothy Drake, often said to be the best Robin of them all. He never completely gave up the identity that he held so dear, that he had built his life around, only to be torn away from him with the drop of a hat. Now he roamed the streets as Red Robin, working painfully alone for the most of the time. A true genius, he may not be the most physically strong out of the four, but his mind could beat any of them with ease.

Damian Wayne, son of the Dark Knight himself. Problematic would be one word to describe him, though it's really the only side he shows off to people. Violent, aggressive, arrogant… The list could go on. He takes great pride in the role of Robin, and it may seem like mere pride in being important, it was more. No one _really_ understood what it meant to him, though he has yet to let anyone close enough to find out. The closest one has ever come would be Dick, and even then their relationship is strained at times.

To all of them, the name Robin represents something, different for all of them. It could mean the start of a new life, or the brutal end to another. Either way, it's more than just a _name_. More than a mask, an alias. They all can't help but meet on the common grounds of the fact that it means an identity, it proves that they mean something.

Setting the many insecurities of these four heroes aside, we could very well attempt to approach the interesting case of the Batman himself. Bruce Wayne, billionaire philanthropist, airheaded playboy. In reality a tactical genius, the World's Greatest Detective, showing all this under the disguise of Batman. A psychologist's dream, but at the same time their worst nightmare. You didn't attempt to get inside the head of the Batman, no matter if you were the world's most renowned psychologist or a simple civilian on the street. There were few exceptions, but they existed all the same.

His cape fluttered behind him as he swung through the night sky, only supported by the cable of his grapple gun. For now, he was alone, Robin and Nightwing holding back at his orders, waiting on standby if anything should go wrong. He landed on a wooden roof, creaking under his weight. Taking out Freeze's henchmen, that was the easy part. It seemed like, no matter what villain, the goons tended to be… well; there weren't any geniuses amongst them, that was for sure.

And then there was Mr. Freeze himself, standing on the docks, watching his followers liberate a large ship of its valuables. It had docked only yesterday, the diamonds a mass order from one of the high-end jewelry stores, the goods they had to offer all handcrafted in the back rooms. Only the rich and the powerful would even look at it twice, the prices enough to feed a family for months on

One by one, Batman picked off the thugs doing the work, managing to escape the notice of their boss. Freeze's mind was on other things, namely how he was supposed to trust the Joker to hold up his end of the deal. Knowing the clown, he would wait until the diamonds were safe and tucked away before blowing up the lab anyways, killing his beautiful Nora. His love, his _life_. This was all for her, this life of crime. Everything he did was necessary to aid his efforts on curing her, taking her out of her suspended state of living, frozen in time.

He was sharply pulled out of his thoughts with a heavy thud in front of him, the oh-so-familiar form of the Batman standing before him. It was just a routine night for the Dark Knight, going out and stopping the diamonds from being stolen. But to Mr. Freeze, it meant so much more.

There wasn't any time for him to react, one second staring at Batman, the next his hands were locked up in cuffs, being pulled along to the police cars that had been hiding the next block over without his notice. Frantically struggling, panic engulfing his senses; he tried to talk to his capturer, _pleading _with him.

"He's going to hurt her, he's going to kill my Nora! You have to let me go, you have to _do something_, do something to stop it, please, I'm begging you, stop him! Save… save my love." The behaviour was a mystery to Batman, though he didn't show it, it was confusing him quite a bit. Never in all his years had he seen the villain like this, desperate, panicked. The constant stream of pleas continued all the way to the vehicle, even as he was being forced inside. "You're the hero, do someth-"

The door slammed shut.

"This is insulting."

A single voice broke the silence, falling into the night air, only to be heard by one other person. Nightwing was perched on the edge of a roof, legs dangling over the side. Some might be afraid of falling, falling to their certain death and becoming a mark on the pavement. Even without his grapple line, Nightwing couldn't seem to find it in him to be afraid; the fear was just… gone. It would seem like, with a background like his, how his parents had died, falling would be right up there on a list of his fears, but this wasn't the case.

Next to him stood Robin, an irritated expression masked upon his face. He had an air of arrogance about him, an air of confidence. He was the son of Bruce Wayne, the son of the world renowned Batman, a title he carried with pride. However, at the moment none of that was evident.

"By assigning us to this- this post, it's implying that he doesn't trust us enough to carry out the job correctly!" Nightwing sighed, at this point having grown immune to his complaints. "You would think th-"

"Have you ever seen the stars, Robin?" The blue and black vigilante cut him off, abruptly changing the subject. He turned his head to look at the younger boy, on the cusp of being a teenager, though at times supporting the personality of an adult. Robin fumbled with his words for a moment, the question catching him off guard.

"Of course I've seen the stars, what a stupid question."

Nightwing gave a dismissive wave of the hand. "No, have you ever really _seen_ them? They're beautiful, each one is different you know. Just like snowflakes, but you can't touch them, ruin the magic of it. My parents and I used to go outside in the evening, sit on top of the trailer and look at them. My mama would tell me all about the constellations, explain the stories behind them all. It's hard to see here in Gotham, what with light pollution and all, but they are a sight to marvel over."

_What are you rambling on about this time? _The comment rested on the tip of Robin's tongue, though he managed to swallow it once he saw where Nightwing's words were headed. He knew better than to dismiss something like he would've once parents were mentioned. Somewhere he knew that this was the man's attempt at sharing something personal with him, a sign that yes, _he_ trusted him, and even though the details may seem small, they meant more than he could ever understand. It was a pity that Robin couldn't quite appreciate it yet, giving a small snort, about to say something before a small beeping interrupted his unfinished thought.

"Robin, Nightwing, I need you to go to 395 Parin Lane, the abandoned lab. Joker's wired explosives; an innocent's life is a risk. Batman out."

The message was short, spoken in a clipped tone, otherwise nothing new to the two heroes. It was all they needed to hear, the only words required to spring them into action, having long since memorized the city's streets and shortcuts, making it to the lab in no time.

"This is Freeze's lab," Nightwing said quietly, mostly to himself as they landed at the front doors. Behind them, a clock stood proudly at the top of a tower, the hand one minute before midnight. Just as Robin took a step forwards, the hand jerked to the right, a bell tolling, signaling midnight. And sure enough, the building erupted with a massive _BOOM_, causing the two to instinctively shield their faces, crouching low to the ground. The moment the blast subsided, Nightwing ran into the building, ducking and dodging debris, not once lessening his speed, avoiding the obstacles with catlike agility.

Coming to a halt in the main room, he muttered a soft "No way," stepping through the ash and rubble to stand stop in front of a cracked glass case, a clear fluid pooling around it. Electricity crackled, a stray wire touching the liquid, sending a current through whatever it was touching, and in the center of it all-

"W-where am I?"

-In the center was a woman, long blonde hair dripping onto the floor, ice blue eyes meeting his white lenses. It was inexplicable, how had this happened? What had been in that fluid, in the wires to cause this?

For sitting at his feet was a rather dazed-looking Nora Fries.

**Reviews are very much appreciated, as always, and I'd love it if you could leave one telling me your thoughts on this so far, and anything you'd like to mention. Thanks!**

**-Project K-0S**


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